On the following morning after breakfast Mrs. Courteen produced a strip
of faded rose ribband.
"Try to match this, child," she said to Phyllida.
"But mamma, 'tis not possible. The silk is old," expostulated the
daughter who was dressed and ready to take the air.
"Nothing is impossible, child," generalised the widow. "Do your
best--all that is required of human beings. You may take Thomas with
you."
"But mamma, I don't want Thomas. I would rather take Betty."
"People can't always take what they desire in this world, and a very
good thing too," remarked Mrs. Courteen, "for the world would be a
wickeder place if they could. Betty must stay and help me."
The widow was determined to begin the supervision of her daughter
recommended by Mr. Ripple. It was the old story of Sisyphus and the
Stones, of Tregeagle and the Thimble; as mischievous spirits are kept
occupied in Tartarus, and condemned for ever to the performance of the
impossible, so was Phyllida to be kept from the temptations of idleness,
in order to save, if not her soul, at any rate her reputation.
The widow apprehended that obedience would be more easily secured by
guile than the direct imposition of a command.
Miss Phyllida Courteen went out that morning with a sullen little frown
above her charming little nose, and walked so fast that Thomas was hard
put to keep his proper distance behind her as he continued to mutter,
'How long, O Lord?' with many a dolorous wheeze and mortified grunt.
In and out of a dozen haberdashers they went. All the young women behind
the counters were very polite and amazingly hopeful, but when they came
to pull out the long drawers filled with ribbands of every size and
colour, they could only produce the gayest pinks, the most brilliant
shades of rose, and though they continued to be very cheerful and
persuaded themselves and their rather petulant customer that the match
was as near as could be expected, they were quite unsuccessful, and the
ribbands were put back in the drawers to await a less exacting
purchaser.
Finally Phyllida, turning out of the tenth shop, heard St. Simon's clock
strike eleven. It was a moderately fine morning, and she knew her beau
was at that moment turning into Curtain Garden. She stamped her foot
with vexation and disappointment.
"Oh Thomas, Thomas! was ever such a mad errand before?" complained his
mistress.
"Velvet! Vanity! and a-whoring after strange silks," groaned Thomas.
"Thomas," said Miss Courteen in her most engaging voice, "you would do
anything for me?"
"With God's help," agreed the footman.
"And you'd do a great deal for a shilling-piece?"
"To spite Beelzebub," said Thomas.
"Then, Thomas, step down to the Western Colonnade, make my compliments
to Miss Sukey Morton, say I hope she is better of her cold, and will she
give Miss Phyllida Courteen the pleasure of her company to Mrs. Pinkle's
Conversazione. But perhaps you'll forget that long message?"
Thomas replied in accents of unctuous solemnity:
"Better of her cold and quite recovered."
"Yes, but there's more."
"Waste not, want not," he answered severely.
"Oh Lud! I suppose I were wise to write it down," with which Miss
Courteen tried the eleventh haberdasher. The pinks were just as light,
the carmines as crude and fresh as ever.
But at the opposite counter it was possible to buy the most agreeable
paper; so Miss Courteen bought a quire, and also a box of wafers marked
with a laurel-wreathed C. Then she borrowed old Mrs. Rambone's
crow-quill pen with which the accounts were made up every evening in the
little back parlour, and Miss Lettice Rambone politely cleared a corner
of the counter and brought out a standish, while Phyllida put her
swansdown muff on the chair because, though it was high enough to pull
about haberdashery, it wasn't high enough for writing letters. After
much arrangement, she wrote:
"MY DEAREST MISS MORTON,--_I hope you are better of your cold. I am
truly anxious that you should come and see me this afternoon at
four o'clock on a matter of great importance. I am truly distressed
by a most unlucky Event. I doubt my dearest Sukey can guess what
disturbs her.